


Two Idiots Try to Steal from the Church

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Short Metodey, M/M, Messy, desk after dark, getting caught, metacheron, seteth's desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Metodey and Acheron are on a secret mission - to steal from a high-ranking Church official. That official is Seteth. Wait, are those footsteps in the hallway? Oops...
Relationships: Metodey/Acheron
Comments: 18
Kudos: 12
Collections: Desk After Dark





	Two Idiots Try to Steal from the Church

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Seteth's Desk thing on Twitter. Obviously, this one is a Desk After Dark because it features my two favorite idiot rat men. I didn't add it to the collection because it's ... horrible.

The office smelled of vanilla, of crisped pages and cooled black tea and an inkwell left exposed to the breeze wafting in through the open window. 

Acheron stood frozen, petrified by a permeating feeling of intruding, of wrongness. He was in the center of a room he never dared believe he’d see. But, then, so many things became possible when Metodey was with him.

Speaking of...

Metodey seemed utterly at ease, strolling about the office as though it was his own and not their enemy’s. 

Metodey put his hands behind his head, smirking at the lacquered oak and sturdy bookshelves. “Wonder where he hides the good stuff.”

“Shhh,” Acheron hissed. He glanced toward the door. 

Metodey’s smirk grew to a grin. He walked up to Acheron, holding him by the chin. “Scared of getting caught, are we, m’lord?”

Of course he was! Anyone with any sense would be. But, then, Metodey was … well, he was not someone to whom Acheron attributed any kind of common sense. He was a madman, most likely, a madman who had caught Acheron in his insane schemes. 

Goddess, how had Acheron ended up here? How had his life come to such a pitiable state? 

He heard footsteps in the hall and whirled toward the door, crouching even though he was standing exposed in the center of the study. 

Metodey’s smile turned almost giddy. “Shall I see if it’s him? Shall I see if mean old Seteth has caught us with our fingers in his cookie jar?” 

He moved as though to do just that and Acheron clutched at Metodey’s clothes, yanking him back, imploring him with desperate eyes. 

Metodey looked like he was holding back laughter. Acheron could see it all over his smug face, dancing in his copper eyes. But rather than cackle, he tugged one side of Acheron’s curled mustache, pulling it to its limit before letting it spring back into place. 

Acheron wanted to bat him away, to shove him aside, but that would be noisy and those footsteps were still pacing right by the office door. So he endured the playful tugging, breathing through clenched teeth until the footsteps faded down the hall. Then he released Metodey, sighing in relief. 

Metodey skipped away, as blissfully unfazed by the danger as he had been before. He went to Seteth’s desk, rifling through the papers atop it.

Acheron rushed to his side. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “It’ll be obvious someone was here.” 

“Yes, Lordling, that’s the point,” Metodey said. 

“W-what? Do you mean to get us killed?” 

Metodey grinned. “Not today.” 

There was a promise in that that made Acheron shiver. 

“No,” Metodey said, “I just want to leave a message. A calling card, if you will.”

“Why by all the gods would you--”

Metodey put a finger to Acheron’s lips, suddenly turning serious. And now Acheron could hear it too. Footsteps. Returning. Steady. Something about that regular beat left no doubt that they were headed directly here, to this very office. 

Metodey shoved Acheron down. Acheron bumped his head against Seteth’s desk as he scrambled under it. Metodey crowded in after him. It was a large desk and sat against the wall. Still, the chair before it was hardly any kind of cover. They might as well have still been standing in the middle of the room. 

“Oh goddess, oh goddess,” Acheron whined. This was really it. Seteth would walk through that door any second and see Edelgard’s assassin and a traitor from Leicester, and by morning they’d both be hanging from the ramparts. Acheron’s throat felt tight just imagining it. 

“Idiot,” Metodey hissed. “Use it.” He tugged at Acheron’s mustache as though to jolt him out of his panic.

Weirdly, it kind of worked.

Acheron cast the spell even as the door opened, praying to the goddess it actually worked. All he could do was wait with bated breath while slow footsteps tapped across the floor.

He had to hold back a sigh. It was definitely Seteth; that much was obvious from the robe Acheron could see beneath the desk. But he didn’t seem alerted to the presence of the intruders literally at his feet. What Acheron had cast wasn’t an invisibility spell, not quite. It was more like a trick, a bending of light to make one’s eyes wander away. He and Metodey likely looked like nothing but shadow beneath the desk, unremarkable, not worth noticing. It wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, but that would have to be good enough. 

Seteth paused at his desk. Acheron could hear him shuffling documents around. 

Oh goddess. Metodey had made a mess of the desk. Surely, a man as meticulously organized as Seteth was now noticing that fact. They were dead. They were fucking dead. Fucking de--

Acheron nearly gasped when he felt a hand down his pants. 

He shot a wide-eyed gaze at Metodey, who was licking his lips and laughing silently. 

_What are you doing?_ Acheron wanted to scream. But he had to grit back the whines of pleasure building in his throat as Metodey stroked him. He certainly couldn’t find space between them to rasp a question, even a very excellent question. 

Acheron was left helpless in Metodey’s hold. His unfortunately quite expert hold. 

Metodey’s hand moved with practiced precision. He stroked up and down Acheron’s rapidly hardening length, even ran his thumb over the head. Acheron grabbed his own mustache, tugging on it to keep himself from whimpering. 

That seemed only to encourage Metodey, who even leaned forward to flick his tongue out. Once, twice. Two quick licks just to make Acheron jerk and shiver. 

He stuttered a little too hard, nearly striking the underside of the desk. That near miss, mixed with the potent potion of his own arousal and fear, forced out a gasp. 

Even Metodey froze, though his hand remained there on Acheron’s cock. 

Seteth was very, very still over them. There were no more papers being shuffled on the desk, just the terrible, waiting silence that quivered through the office. 

And somehow Metodey’s hand resumed its insanity. Acheron was covering his mouth with his hands now, struggling not to pant against his own palms as Metodey’s hand ran up and down, sometimes pausing to give a squeeze in just the right place, sometimes playing with the head. 

Acheron squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his own hands harder over his mouth, choked down whimpers and whines that clogged his throat like pebbles trying to hold back a river. He could feel those fragile little rocks breaking, falling apart, the gushing river behind them starting to burst through, to come through, to come–

Seteth ducked down. Acheron had a single instant in which to register the priest – the shock on his face, the flush of rage, the way his eyes and mouth went wide. 

Then the tenuous dam broke. 

Acheron let out a cry as it happened; Metodey, a cackle. And Seteth – Seteth said nothing at all as cum hit his face. He stayed there, stunned, silent, gaping, eyes fixated on the unlikely pair beneath his desk. 

Metodey released Acheron’s cock and took his wrist instead. With his other hand, he shoved a shocked and filthy Seteth aside. Before the priest even seemed to realize what had happened, Metodey and Acheron were clambering out from under the desk, climbing right over him. 

They ran from the office, climbed up and out through the window, and tumbled down through a tree to reach the ground in a heap. Acheron barely had time to realize his pants were still undone when Metodey was back on his feet, yanking Acheron along. 

They just reached a stairwell down into Abyss when they heard Seteth shout from the window.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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